J Hahn Doleman
Fish Tale
My uncle stands in the stern of his pontoon boat, Spirit Lake stretched out in front of him like the Red Sea at the feet of Moses. Flicking his wrist, he casts white filament lightning across the dark, flat water. The lead weight plunks in and the surface churns with starving trout. An instant later, the hook gains purchase in a Rainbow’s soft cheek and my uncle starts to reel in his catch. I crouch down, clutching a green net big enough to hold most of me, imagining first a creature the size of a sardine, then a dolphin, then a whale.
The Rainbow thrashes all the way to the boat, scales glinting in the sun. “Scoop him up!” my uncle commands. I slide the net into the frigid water, lifting the trout out of its short life. Tossing down his rod, my uncle grabs the slick, flapping body, backs the hook out of its mouth, and tosses it into a bucket of water. We repeat the process a dozen times before returning to shore.
jackknife they say he was over the legal limit
About the Author
J Hahn Doleman is a hospital-based speech pathologist who will make any excuse to spend time outdoors, especially for ill-advised marathon bicycle rides or off-trail backpacking trips in the Sierras with insufficient gear and provisions. Jeff began writing haibun in 2018 and serves as a contest coordinator for the Haiku Poets of Northern California.